"Robert A. Heinlein - Stranger in a Strange Land" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

Talking with a Martian is something like talking with an echo. You donтАЩt get
any argument but you donтАЩt get results either.тАЬ
тАЮSemantic difficulty? Perhaps you should have brought whatтАЩs-hisname, your
semantician, with you today. Or is he waiting outside?тАЬ
тАЮMahmoud, sir. No, Doctor Mahmoud is not well. A-a slight nervous
breakdown, sir.тАЬ Van Tromp reflected that being dead drunk was the moral
equivalent thereof.
тАЮSpace happy?тАЬ
тАЮA little, perhaps.тАЬ These damned groundhogs!
тАЮWell, fetch him around when heтАЩs feeling himself. young man Smith should
be of help as an interpreter.тАЬ
тАЮPerhaps,тАЬ van Tromp said doubtfully.

This young man Smith was busy at that moment just staying alive. His body,
unbearably compressed and weakened by the strange shape of space in this
unbelievable place, was at last somewhat relieved by the softness of the nest
in which these others had placed him. He dropped the effort of sustaining it,
and turned his third level to his respiration and heart beat.
He saw at once that he was about to consume himself. His lungs were
beating almost as hard as they did at home, his heart was racing to distribute
the influx, ail in an attempt to cope with the squeezing of space-and this in a
situation in which he was smothered by a poisonously rich and dangerously
hot atmosphere. He took immediate steps.
When his heart rate was down to twenty per minute and his respiration
almost imperceptible, he set them at that and watched himself long enough
to assure himself that he would not inadvertently discorporate while his
attention was elsewhere. When he was satisfied that they were running
properly, he set a tiny portion of his second level on guard and withdrew the
rest of himself. It was necessary to review the configurations of these many
new events in order to fit them to himself, then cherish and praise them-lest
they swallow him up.
Where should he start? When he had left home, enfolding these others who
were now his own nestlings? Or simply at his arrival in this crushed space?
He was suddenly assaulted by the lights and sounds of that arrival, feeling it
again with mind-shaking pain. No, he was not yet ready to cherish and
embrace that configuration-back! back! back beyond his first sight of these
others who were now his own. Back even before the healing which had
followed his first grokking of the fact that he was not as his nestling brothers .
. . back to the nest itself.
None of his thinkings had been in Earth symbols. Simple English he had
freshly learned to speak, but much less easily than a Hindu uses it to trade
with a Turk. Smith used English as one might use a code book, with tedious
and imperfect translation for each symbol. Now his thoughts, pure Martian
abstractions from half a million years of wildly alien culture, traveled so far
from any human experience as to be utterly untranslatable.
In the adjoining room an intern, Dr. тАЮTadтАЬ Thaddeus, was playing cribbage
with Tom Meechum, SmithтАЩs special nurse. Thaddeus had one eye on his
dials and meters and both eyes on his cards; nevertheless he noted every
heart beat of his patient. When a flickering light changed from ninety-two
pulsations per minute to less than twenty, he pushed the cards aside, jumped